


Father Tells Son

by aye_of_newt



Series: Whizzer Brown is Going to Die [3]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, Everyone makes an appearance but those are the major players, F/F, F/M, Gen, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Marvin being a good dad, Marvin dies, No happy endings I'm sorry, Trina and Marvin being friends, can stand alone, post-musical, q word NOT used as a slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aye_of_newt/pseuds/aye_of_newt
Summary: Marvin paused for a moment, unsure of how to tell her. "Trina, I'm—” he thought of all the ways he could soften the blow with allusions and euphemisms, and how Trina was always stronger than he gave her credit for. "Whizzer-" he cut himself off again and Trina took a tiny sharp breath. "I'm sick," Marvin said quietly, flatly. There wasn't anything else to say.
Relationships: Dr. Charlotte/Cordelia (Falsettos), Jason & Marvin (Falsettos), Marvin & Trina (Falsettos), Trina/Mendel Weisenbachfeld, Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Series: Whizzer Brown is Going to Die [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613623
Comments: 43
Kudos: 100





	Father Tells Son

**Author's Note:**

> This took a lot longer to write than I thought it would but it's finally here. It's also a lot longer than I thought it would be originally.
> 
> I did some research on the history of the HIV/AIDS crisis in the US and did my best to make this a historically accurate portrayal. From what I read, without treatment, it can take up to ten years from the initial infection with HIV for it to progress to stage four AIDS. The timeline of this fic is based on Marvin and Whizzer being together for 9/10 months before the events of the musical. Following that logic, Marvin would have been diagnosed with AIDS approximately eight years after first meeting Whizzer.  
> It should also be noted that there was no name for HIV until May of 1986 and no one knew what caused AIDS for several years before that, which is why everyone is expecting Marvin to get sick right after Whizzer dies. There are also mentions of other AIDS-related historical events. If there is an error in my portrayal of the timeline of the crisis, please tell me. I did my best but it is a complex issue.

When men first began to fall ill with little to no warning, it had seemed like the sickness moved at an impossibly fast rate, snapping the life out of previously healthy young people in a matter of months or even weeks. As the death rate began climbing, first slowly and then in waves, those fears seemed only to be confirmed and the community began to fear that they would be extinguished entirely within a few years. 

As others crumbled around him, Marvin waited for the day when he would unravel. For weeks after Whizzer’s death, he went to bed every night wondering if he would wake up feeling weakened and wrong, he would lay there, taking deep shaking breaths as he slowly lost his mind examining each inhale for strain and unsure if it was panic or impending death that tightened his chest. But except for the aching emptiness in his heart where Whizzer once was, there was nothing. At first, Charlotte wanted to check on Marvin every few days, but as the months slowly drifted past and her attention was called ever more to the aid of others, and as Marvin continued to appear completely fine, her constant testing slowed. It was nice, sometimes, to allow themselves to hope, however illogically, that by some miracle Marvin might have been spared. 

In the end, he had more time than he had ever thought possible and it was a blessing beyond Marvin’s greatest hopes as he watched Jason turn fourteen, sixteen, eighteen— as he watched Jason graduate high school and apply for colleges and be accepted to every one of them, his options open and unlimited.

And yet the passage of time was the slowest torture imaginable, as Marvin knew somewhere deep and primal that the inevitable would come, however delayed it might be. New information about the disease came slowly, too slowly, but what little they knew suggested that the disease was lurking somewhere in his body, waiting to emerge to claim his life. The specter haunted Marvin every day of those years he was given. He was being stalked in the longest horror movie ever made, while his and Whizzer’s friends slowly crumbled around them, falling sick, at first one by one and then in droves until the numbers of ill and dying and dead outnumbered the standing.

Of course, technically speaking, they were more Whizzer’s friends, he'd always had far more connections in the community than Marvin, and brought way more people into their circle. (Though before everything had happened, Marvin had been secretly pleased and proud that he’d brought their very best friends, the lesbians. Not that he had done much beyond move next door to them. It was Cordelia, barging her way in with endless samples that first forged their friendship.) At first, Whizzer’s old friends had done a decent job of taking care of Marvin, showing up in turns every few days to check-in or take him out. But as they or their partners began to cough and color with dark blotches that brought the memories of that hospital room back in sharp focus, those friends began to fade away, consumed in their own tragedy. 

In his grief and isolation, Marvin watched as the illness that stole Whizzer away from him was frist named GRID and then AIDS as doctors grudgingly admitted that it wasn’t confined solely to gay men. As more people fell, groups began to rise up around the periphery of the community. Mostly young people, some of them Jason’s age or not much older, were organizing on the streets, holding meetings and handing out information pamphlets. Marvin didn’t pay them much attention. He was barely involved in the community before Whizzer died. After, he might as well have been masquerading as a married man again. He didn’t go out to the clubs much, and when he did it was with the intention to sit alone and get drunk enough to forget, or at least drunk enough to remember seeing Whizzer from across the smokey bar without crying.

Still, he watched the _youths_ with mild interest, wondering what it would be like to be filled with that much passion and fight. Once, one of the boys, and that’s what they were to Marvin then, _boys, little boys, god he was old enough to be their father_ , had approached him at the bar with a flier. 

“We’re having an informational session about AIDS here next Saturday at nine. You should come.”

Marvin smiled bitterly at him, swirling his whiskey in his glass. “Thanks, kid, but I don’t need an informational session.” Marvin turned back to his drink but the flier was pushed back under his nose.

“Oh yes you do,” the kid insisted. “If you’re queer then you need to know about AIDS and what we can do to treat and prevent it. You may think you’re safe and it’s never going to happen to you but—”  
“Kid,” Marvin interrupted, not unkindly, “I know everything I need to know about it, okay? I have a friend, a lesbian, who’s on the front lines of this thing. She keeps me updated on the latest treatments and developments. And besides,” Marvin’s voice broke so slightly it might have been unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know him well, “I saw it first hand. I watched my partner die.‘81.” Marvin stared into the bottom of his glass for a moment, pretending not to see the expression of pained understanding cross the boy’s face as he slowly retracted his flyer. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. The implication of what that meant for Marvin hung unmentioned between them. It was quiet for a moment before he added, “You know, we don’t just do education. Coming to the meeting might be nice, it’s become almost a support group for people who are sick or who lost someone.” He gently slid the flyer onto the bar next to Marvin. “Just think about it?” 

Marvin looked up at his sad and serious face, which suddenly looked so much older than its nineteen or so years, and he softened just a hair. “ I’ll think about it,” he offered kindly. “Thank you—?”

“Steve.”

“Steve. Marvin,” he added, offering his hand. Steve took it and smiled before adjusting his grip on his stack of flyers. 

“Hope I see you there.” With a last nod, he went off to recruit more patrons.

Marvin decided against ordering another drink and went home, much less drunk than usual and feeling oddly much better than normal too. 

For almost the entire week, he went back and forth on whether or not to go. He’d never been much of an activist and despite how far he’d come in accepting his own sexuality, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to become a part of such a predominantly gay organization, he did still have bills to pay and job and professional appearance to uphold, but when Saturday came and Marvin found himself sitting in his apartment alone, staring at the ridiculous painting that Whizzer had once brought home from a friend’s art show, he thought about how proud his lover had been. How he had always been completely and unashamedly himself and how the world had tried to make him out to be filthy and deserving of the pain and suffering that had ended his life. He listened to the crushing silence and felt the emptiness of the apartment around him. 

He decided to go, if only because it was slightly less horrible to be in a group and thinking about Whizzer than sitting by himself and thinking of Whizzer.

At the bar, he found a place in the back and sat quietly, listening to overviews on wearing condoms and what to do if a hospital denied you access to your partner, saying a quiet prayer of thanks to Charlotte for making sure that that was never a problem. He didn’t offer any input and no one called on him to speak, but at the end of the night, Steve came up to him and smiled, thanking Marvin for coming. He introduced him to his boyfriend, Mark, and invited Marvin along for a protest they were planning outside a hospital that had refused a dying man’s final wish to see his partner of eight years just one last time. 

Coming to the meeting had helped, bizarrely more than he thought it would, but Marvin knew he wasn’t ready for that. 

He did come to the meeting the next week, however.

***

Charlotte delivered the news in person. It was late, well after dinner and Marvin was finishing putting away his sad single plate and set of silverware when the knock came lightly at the door. 

“It’s me,” she called softly before cracking the door. “Can I come in?”

Marvin gave an awkward half-smile as he gestured her into the apartment, carefully folding the towel much neater than he would on a normal day. It was hardly unusual for the lesbains to come over unannounced, but with Charlotte alone, and the tests that he’d sent in a few days before, Marvin knew what she was there for. 

“Tea?” he asked in forced nonchalance, reaching for the kettle. 

“Sure. Thanks, Marvin,” Charlotte spoke softly, which would have been enough to tip him off that something was wrong had Marvin not already noticed. 

They sat in silence as the kettle boiled and Marvin fixed two cups— black with one sugar for himself and earl grey with milk for Charlotte. She thanked him quietly as he pressed the mug into her hands and settled next to her on the couch. Charlotte blew gently on the tea, letting him decide when they would begin. Marvin had drunk half his mug before he finally said.

“It’s stage four.” There was no question.

Charlotte lowered her mug. “Yes.” There wasn’t anything more to say.

They looked at each other, Marvin’s eyes burning so that he couldn’t tell if her eyes looked glassy from her own tears or his. 

Marvin huffed out the breath he’d been holding for nearly fifteen minutes and set his mug down, temporarily unconcerned with leaving a mark on the table, the coasters Whizzer had insisted on laying forgotten two inches to the right. He took one of Charlotte’s hands in his. “Thanks, for...all of this.”

“Of course,” Charlotte’s composure wavered as she squeezed his hand tightly. “I— I thought about asking Cordelia to come, but,” she laughed roughly, “that wouldn’t exactly be professional. Not that this is.” She smiled tightly and Marvin laughed roughly at the weak joke. 

“No, this is good. Thank you.” They stayed on the couch together for a long time, until their tea grew cold and Marvin slipped into sleep. 

***

Four years, ten months, and six days after Whizzer died, Marvin sat alone in the kitchen they used to share, staring at the phone sitting on the table before him. He took a long shaky breath and picked up the receiver, dialing the number without thinking, like it was programmed into his body. The phone rang three times and just as Marvin was preparing himself to leave a message there was a click. 

“Hello?”

"Trina, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you."

There was a clatter of dishes in the background as Trina tried to adjust the phone between her ear and shoulder. "I'm sorry, Marvin, I’m in the middle of making dinner, can it wait?"

Marvin winced, almost letting his fear answer before he steeled himself. "It's important." 

He didn’t sound overly emotional or desperate, but there was something in Marvin’s tone that caught Trina’s attention. "Just give me a minute to turn off the stove,” she answered. Trina put the receiver down and Marvin could hear muffled sounds of footsteps and the grate of a pot on the stove and the clicking of a gas burner being turned off. There was a garbled rustling as Trina picked up the phone again. "Okay," she told Marvin. "What's going on?"

Marvin paused for a moment, unsure of how to tell her. "Trina, I'm—” he thought of all the ways he could soften the blow with allusions and euphemisms, and how Trina was always stronger than he gave her credit for. "Whizzer-" he cut himself off again and Trina took a tiny sharp breath. "I'm sick," Marvin said quietly, flatly. There wasn't anything else to say.

Trina went totally silent. She clutched the phone tightly to her ear, her knuckles going white. For a moment, she contemplated feigning ignorance just so that it would be a few more seconds before she would have to face the truth. But she was not a cruel woman, and she couldn't force Marcin to play that game. "With what Whizzer had," she finished, “With AIDS.” It wasn't a question, just a simple statement of fact.

"Yes."

They sat in silence, letting it hang between them. "How long?" Trina asked, suddenly very grateful that Marvin had decided to tell her over the phone as her throat constricted. She didn't know if she would have been able to maintain the appearance of collected calm if he was in front of her to see the look on her face, but her voice remained steady if strained. "How long have you known?"

"For sure? About six months. Marvin hesitated for a moment before adding, "But I knew it was a possibility for a long time. Before– before Whizzer died."

Trina nodded tightly, forgetting for a moment that Marvin couldn't see her as she dug her nails into the table in front of her. She had suspected, and feared, for a long time— how could she not when AIDS was decimating New York, was annihilating every gay community in what seemed like the whole world, but she had hoped– “Six _months?”_

"I'm sorry," Marvin whispered and Trina jolted. It was always bizarre to hear those words come from Marvin's lips. During their marriage, he had only said them a couple of times, and rarely were they sincere. Marvin had come a long way since then, but she was unsure if she would ever get used to hearing him apologize.

"I should have said something sooner–" he tried to explain but Trina cut him off.

"I understand." Bizarrely, Trina did. Anger that he had kept it from her had shot through her chest for a moment. But just a moment. It didn’t matter. In varying ways, all of them had known on some level ever since the illness first began to break through the news. They had worried after Whizzer died and as the death toll climbed. But as the years had passed without the same falling onto Marvin, a precarious sense of security had come over them as Marvin continued to live. There had been times when he had gotten ill, more seriously ill than seemed normal for a man Marvin’s age. But with every trip to the hospital or emergency room and with every odd cough and cold, Marvin had assured them that it was just a bug or bronchitis and that there was nothing to worry about. 

“Six months,” Trina repeated again, “I didn’t, I didn’t realize it had gotten so bad, you— you didn’t seem—” 

“No, _shit_ , sorry. That was confusing. It actually wasn’t AIDS then, I actually only just got the news on Monday. I was screened for the virus, HIV. It wasn’t AIDS then, but now— "

“Now it is,” Trina said softly. Her elbows dug into the hard table painfully as she rested her head in her hands. “Is— is there anything I can do?”

There was a long pause as Marvin hesitated. He spoke quietly with a bleed edge of desperation as what he was unsure of asking burst out. “Don’t let me die in hospital. Please. Whizzer hated it there and who could blame him? He was cooped up in a room in a bed for months. He couldn't go for a walk or go to a cafe or see the sky or feel the wind. He used to just ask us about the _weather._ Remember that? What it felt like out in the world because he couldn't be out there. Whizzer _loved_ his freedom. It was the most important thing in the world to him. And I kept him chained to a bed. I clipped his wings. I _tore out_ his feathers and locked him in a cage. He asked me once, to take him home. It was before we'd had the conversation. About him dying I mean. He told me he knew it was over and he just wanted to go home to be with me. And I said no.” Marvin gasped roughly, his voice cracking. “I made him stay there in that white box because I thought he might be cured. Whizzer was so dramatic you know? So unpredictable and _resilient_. You could never keep him down. Like if anyone would be granted a miracle cure on their deathbed it would be him.” Marvin took a rasping laugh at his own foolishness. “But it didn't come and he spent the last few months of his life in a place that he hated being treated like a science project. A fucking _freak._ A leaper. And he stopped asking eventually but I just...I denied him his last wish on Earth and _my fucking god,_ now I understand why he wanted to so badly. Why even if it meant he couldn't survive as long he would take being at home with his family over another painful week in the hospital. And I know I'm so selfish for asking this when I know it's the very thing that I denied him, Trina, but I've seen it and I know how horrible it is and it's only getting worse as more men die. Please don't let me die in hospital Trina. _Please_.” 

Trina bit her lip so hard it drew blood as she tried to keep Marvin from hearing the sob that ran through her body. She slumped forward, hunched under the weight of the world as she used a shaking hand to wipe angrily at her eyes. “I promise,” she gasped, “I _promise,”_ she repeated more firmly. “And Marvin, it’s not your fault. You just wanted to help him. You...you didn’t know. Whizzer— he would have forgiven you. Honestly, I think he wasn’t even angry. He loved you, Marvin. And I know for a fact that he was glad he was there for Jason’s bar mitzvah. He wouldn’t have been if he wasn’t in the hospital.”

There was harsh breathing on the other end of the phone as Marvin collected himself. “Thank you,” he croaked finally and Trina understood that it meant more than one thing. 

“No need,” she whispered back. 

“Trina?”

“Yes?”  
“I’m sorry to ask but—” Marvin sniffed roughly again.

“No need,” Trina repeated again, softer. “Anything you need.”

“Would you be my power of attorney? Just...just in case.”

Trina steadied herself. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Trina. I— I really appreciate it.”

“That’s just what you do for family,” Trina offered gently. 

Marvin laughed roughly. “Look at us, divorced for seven years and somehow...closer than we were when we were married.”

Trina smiled sadly. “We were always better as friends than a couple,” she admitted. 

“We were,” Marvin agreed, adjusting the phone as he began pulling himself together again. “I’m...I’m sorry there was a time when, when we weren’t friends.”

“Me too.” 

They were quiet together for a moment before Trina heard the scrape of keys in the lock.

“Mendel’s home,” she told Marvin, smoothing her hair quickly. 

“I’ll let you go,” he forced lightness into his voice. “Or,” he hesitated, “I could tell him now? Or if you want to?” He shifted awkwardly.

“Which would you like?” Trina asked, holding up a finger to silence Mendel as he came around the corner into the kitchen, already starting to chatter about his day. At her red-rimmed eyes, he stopped in his tracks, eyebrows knitted together. 

“Either,” Marvin shrugged. 

“Okay,” Trina breathed roughly, “I’ll tell him, but Jason…”

“I haven’t mentioned it to him yet. I...I think I want to do it myself, but I just need a little more time. Okay?”

Trina nodded. “Okay. We’ll talk more soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Marvin sounded so small as he answered. 

“I promise,” Trina reminded him. 

“Thank you.”

“No need.”

Marvin smiled softly. “You’re a good friend.”

Trina hesitated for a beat. “I love you,” she whispered gently. 

Those words did something strange to Marvin’s chest. “I love you too,” he answered back. They stayed on the line quietly a beat longer before he added, “Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye.” Marvin hung up the phone and Trina held the buzzing receiver for a moment before slowly putting it down, the click sounding too loud in the choking silence of the kitchen. 

“Trina?” Mendel’s voice, so soft and concerned, shattered her and Trina sobbed once before he was at her side, cradling her gently against him. He rocked her, whispering calming nonsense into her ear until she had settled enough to tell him, gripping Mendel’s hand tightly in hers as she told him that Marvin’s borrowed time had finally run out. 

In his own apartment, Marvin sat alone by the phone, wishing, perhaps selfishly, that Whizzer was still there to hold his hand while he told Jason.

***

Four months after Marvin started coming to the meetings, and almost two months after his diagnosis, Steve pulled him aside as people were trickling out to find a drink or a date, condoms clutched tightly in their hands, harsh lines drawn around their eyes. It had become fairly common for Marvin to join Steve and Mark and their friends for drinks and conversation after the meetings. At first, it had been a little odd, with Marvin being at least twenty years senior to the second oldest man there, but in a strange way, they had adopted each other. Almost none of the boys there had any form of real relationship with their birth fathers and despite his sometimes gaping knowledge of the issues and realities of gay life, they began to look to Marvin as a strange sort of role-model despite all odds. Who would have thought in 1979 that Marvin, with all his internalized homophobia and admittedly lackluster parenting skills in regards to his own biological son, would end up adopting eight or so twenty-something gays? He could almost hear Whizzer laughing his ass off at the suggestion. 

Though to be fair, the kids did almost as much for Marvin as he did for them, making him very aware of where his gaps in social and political knowledge lay. And they were the first people since Whizzer to drag him out for fun or force him into something slightly more fashionably acceptable than the suits that even Marvin had to admit were rather out of date. By the night in question, it had become almost expected for Steve to ask him around and Marvin didn’t question it until he saw the look in his eyes as Steve led him upstairs to the shitty staff room that Greg, the bar owner, had lent out to the cause. Greg’s own partner had died almost four years previously. 

“Steve?” he asked, his chest tightening as he realized how quiet the boy had been that night, barely contributing to the speeches and staring somewhat absent-mindedly off in the distance. “Is everything okay?” He spoke gently, placing a soft hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

Steve crumbled and before Marvin knew what was happening, he was gripped in a tight hug, Steve’s head buried in his chest as he broke down. Marvin was stunned for a moment before he wrapped his arms gently around Steve’s shaking shoulders. “Shh,” he whispered, “shh. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Steve was a small person, but he felt tiny in Marvin’s arms and he was reminded of Jason, several years younger, his thirteen-year-old boy trembling in grief and fear. 

It took a few minutes, but Steve eventually calmed down, pulling away from Marvin as he wiped his eyes quickly. “Shit, sorry. I’m sorry, I—” 

“No need to apologize,” Marvin told him. “Can— can I ask what happened?” Steve sniffed roughly and Marvin guided him to the ripped couch that sagged against the wall. They sat down and Steve avoided Marvin’s concerned eyes as he dug his nails into his thigh. 

“Mark had a doctor’s appointment today,” he whispered roughly and Marvin’s heart sank. Mark had been positive for over a year and every appointment was a waiting game for when the bad news would get worse. He hadn’t been at the meeting that night. Lately, that hadn’t been too unusual as he seemed to be feeling too tired to go more and more often…

“His count dropped again. It’s—” Steve's voice broke again, “He’s dying.”

Marvin closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh kiddo. I’m so sorry, Steve.” There was nothing else to say. He pulled Steve close to his side again and they kept each other company in silence for a long time, marked only by soft sniffs and choked sobs as Steve grieved the arrival of what he had known was coming. 

***

Between the three of them, Marvin, Mendel, and Trina decided to wait to tell Jason until he came home for Thanksgiving break. He was enjoying himself freely for the first time in years at Boston U— though he had proudly called three days after arriving on campus to tell Marvin he’d organized the first AIDS activism group at his university. Although he wrote and called regularly to update them on the marches he’d been organizing, his three parents and the lesbians were mostly worried about Jason getting arrested and kicked out before his pre-med degree had any chance of being an MD. 

He’d decided on med school four months after Whizzer died and very little had distracted him from that goal since, although Marvin had all but forced him to accept the much more prestigious program in Boston instead of the closer NYU. Although he had always been independent, Jason loved his family and had been reluctant to leave them for any significant amount of time after Whizzer had died. He had thought that space would do Jason well and that was still his opinion, even with the diagnosis. Jason couldn’t spend all of his time worrying about Marvin, he needed to have a full life of his own and be young while he still could.

It had been difficult, keeping the emotion out of his voice when he called Jason, and Marvin wavered between his conviction to not destroy his son’s life any more than he already had and the guilt of lying when he’d spent so long working for Jason’s trust. Marvin liked to think he was a good actor— he did have over thirty years of experience, but to be honest most of his performance had relied on the audience’s willingness to look the other way. Jason had never been one to let things slide. In some capacity, they both knew that the other knew there was something going unsaid, but Jason let it hang unspoken through November. 

On their last phone call before he came home, Jason hesitated just as they were getting ready to hang up. “Dad?” he spoke quickly, as if afraid he would lose his nerve. “Is everything...okay?”

Marvin closed his eyes, gripping the phone tighter as he steadied himself. “Yeah,” he rasped out, “yeah, kiddo. Everything is okay.”

***

Jason stepped off the bus to a flurry of hugs and kisses and worrying over how skinny he looked while Marvin took his bag from him and Mendel took the bag from Marvin. 

“Well no worries about all of that,” Cordelia interrupted, “I’ve made enough food to fatten him up plenty before Boston U steals him away from us again. And of course, I have a care package started already.”

Jason laughed, “Thank you, ‘Delia, but I’m perfectly fine and healthy.”

“We know,” Trina said softly, wiping an invisible spot of dirt off his cheek. “We just worry about you, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Jason said softly, giving her another long hug. “I appreciate it.” He pulled back and looked her in the face, “But there’s no need,” he smiled. “And Thanksgiving isn’t until tomorrow.”

“Well tonight is your welcome home dinner,” Cordelia explained grinning. “I’m making latkas.” 

“Sounds great, ‘Delia,” Jason smiled. “Thank you.”

Trina patted his cheek and let him go. “Let’s go home.” They started shuffling up the street in an awkward group, too large to comfortably fit the sidewalk. Marvin clapped Jason on the back, smiling tightly and keeping unusually silent. It could wait until after dinner. Or for a couple of days, and he didn’t trust himself to keep it in that long if he started talking. 

“You okay, Dad?” Jason asked, his forehead wrinkled. “You look tired.”

Marvin’s chest hurt. “I am, to be honest,” he laughed awkwardly, hesitating for a moment before forcing himself to add, “things have been just _crazy_ at the office and your mother—” 

Jason cracked a smile.

“ — has been driving me insane with the phone calls about your bus fair and what if you get a flat tire and—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jason laughed. “Maybe take a nap later tonight okay?”

“Okay,” Marvin agreed, he wrapped an arm around Jason’s shoulder and pulled him tightly as they headed towards home.

***

Despite having no intention to, Marvin actually did fall asleep on the sofa after dinner that night, without even finishing his glass of wine. Cordelia and Charlotte had gone home and Mendel was finishing straightening the kitchen when Trina came into the living room. 

“Jason—” 

“Shh,” he held a finger to his lips, glancing meaningfully at Marvin as he gently slid his shoe off, trying not to wake him. 

Trina softened as she slid into a chair nearby, watching as Jason tucked Marvin in, snagging the throw from off the back of the couch. He tucked the shoes neatly to the side and curled up in a chair across from Trina. They sat silently for a moment, watching Marvin. “He’s sick. Isn’t he?” Jason’s eyes never left the sofa where Marvin lay.

Trina didn’t respond for a moment, taking a pause to breathe slowly. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

Jason nodded tightly, biting his lip as he blinked rapidly. He reached out and gripped Marvin’s ankle for a moment like he had to touch his father to be sure he was still there. “Was he going to tell me?”

“He was. This week. It’s just—” Trina gestured vaguely.

“It’s hard,” Jason agreed. “I know. Should...should I let him tell me?”

“I would give him some more time, but he may need help. Just—” 

“Just don’t let him _know_ I’m helping,” Jason finished. He and Trina smiled weakly at each other. 

“Right.” 

“Coffee?” Mendel asked, poking his head into the room. 

Tina and Jason shushed him and Mendel winced. “Sorry. Coffee?” he repeated, softer. 

“Maybe tea,” Trina answered, getting up. She pulled Mendel into a hug as she hovered in the doorframe. “Jason, sweetie, do you want any?” 

“No, thanks. I’m good.” Jason looked back towards Marvin who was still completely out of it. 

“Okay,” Trina answered, “Mendel and I are going to have some tea and go to bed. Turn off the lights when you’re done.”

“Got it, Mom. Night.”

“Night.”

“Night, Jason,” Mendel added, guiding Trina gently into the kitchen. 

Jason woke up stiff and aching in the chair sometime around two in the morning. Marvin snored lightly and shifted, his face, even while dimly lit by the lamp left on in the hallway, looked drawn and pale. 

“Night, Dad,” Jason murmured, kissing Marvin quickly on the forehead, “Love you.” He picked his way silently down the hall to his own room, careful not to wake anyone.

***

When Jason came into the living room the next morning, Trina and Marvin were already awake, drinking their coffee while the parade played on mute. “Morning, honey,” she smiled as he came in. “Can I get you some coffee?” Trina started to get up but Jason waved his hand, gesturing for her to sit.

“I got it, Mom. Thanks.” Jason fixed himself a cup, pouring a generous amount of creamer in.

“Mendel went out for pastries,” Trina called from the couch. “He should be back soon.”

“Sounds good.” Jason carried his cup carefully across the carpet while his parents moved further apart so that he could drop between them on the couch. It was a tight fit with three adults but it felt oddly cozy, their knees and elbows brushing against each other. Trina unmuted the tv while Marvin let a hand card through Jason’s tangled hair. Jason cradled his mug close to his chest, letting the warmth seep into his fingers. 

The Rockettes were just finishing their routine when Medel came in, struggling to balance a bakery box and a bouquet in one arm as he pulled his keys out of the lock. “Morning,” he smiled at them, raising a teasing eyebrow at their cramped position.

“Here,” Jason got up somewhat awkwardly and took the box from him. “Let me help.”

“Oh, I’m sure that's what you want to do. Help. Of course, he offers _help_ with the bakery,” Marvin teased.

“Ha. Ha.” Jason rolled his eyes as he made his way into the kitchen. He reappeared in the doorway a moment later, chewing a large bite of his raspberry Danish. “There’s a cruller for you, Dad,” he added, somewhat muffled.

“Jason, don't talk with your mouth full,” Trina scolded lightly as she got up to join him. She took the flowers from Mendel, smiling as she smelled them. "Thank you," she murmured, kissing his cheek before taking them into the kitchen to find a vase.

“Thanks, but I think I should get going.” Marvin drained his cup and stood. “I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome by about,” he looked at his watch, “twelve hours.” 

“Oh please,” Mendel protested, jokingly, “I bought it for you, Marvin. What kind of hosts would we be if we sent you home hungry?”

“My mother would die,” Trina agreed, cutting a chocolate eclair into thirds. 

“And I got _that_ for you,” Mendel told her. “You can have the whole thing.” 

“Come on, Mendel,” Jason laughed, dropped back onto the couch next to Marvin, “how many years have you two been together? You know Mom will only eat sweets in several small slivers until she ends up eating a whole serving.” 

“I do not!” Trina protested, looking indignant. 

“Yes you do,” Marvin laughed, “it used to drive me crazy.” 

Trina rolled her eyes but brought Marvin the donut on a plate all the same.

“Really,” Marvin protested, “I should be going, I—”

“Please,” Trina said, relaxing into a chair with her second eclair third, “we’ve known each other long enough that you don’t have to bother with the fake polite protests. Just stay for breakfast, Marvin.” Her smile weakened as her eyebrows knit together just a fraction as she added, “You’re too skinny.” 

Marvin thought of how he’d taken his belt in another notch two days before and forced a grin. “Fine, you’ve convinced me. I need more coffee though.” He started to get up but Jason snagged the cup from his hand quickly. 

“I’ve got it.” Jason brought the coffee to Marvin and curled up on the sofa just a little too close to be entirely normal. They let the morning slip past lazily over coffee and pastry and the parade playing half-forgotten in the background while they chatted about gossip and Jason's first semester. The days had long ago turned towards cold and winter but the sunlight fell warm and bright across the floor of the apartment, and for just a scarce hour or so it felt like their little family was safe.

***

Marvin went back to his own apartment to clean up and give all of them a break before dinner that night. He was stiff and aching from sleeping on the couch and still tired despite sleeping for almost ten hours. It seemed like he was almost always tired of late. Marvin curled up in bed and yet lay awake for almost an hour thinking about Jason and the way he had looked at Marvin that morning, too old for a mere eighteen. It was the look that he’d carried for months after Whizzer had died, the look that had finally seemed to fade with time, although it had never quite left entirely. Last night it had been more present than Marvin had seen in years.

Eventually, his exhaustion won over the worry and Marvin dropped off into fitful sleep. He was woken a bit less than two hours later by the ringing of his phone.

“Mmmh ‘lo?” he muttered, still half-asleep.

“Shit, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Marvin squinted, trying to place the voice. “Steve?”

“Yeah, but uh, I can call back. Sorry, Marvin I—”

“No, no. It’s okay. What’s up?”

“Umm,” Steve took a shaky breath. “It’s Mark.”

Marvin’s chest tightened. “Oh god, is he—?”

“No! No, he’s fine. Or, he’s alive at least.”

Marvin sagged in relief. “Good. Good. Then—”

“He’s in the hospital. Pneumonia. They won’t let me see him.”

“Fuck. Steve, I am so sorry. We can organize, protest…”

“Thank you, Marvin. But...no. I’m just...too tired. I can’t, I can’t do it anymore. It might make me a terrible person, but I just—” 

“I understand.” And Marvin did, too well. “And you’re not a terrible person. Have you heard anything at least?”

“Um, yeah, yeah. There’s a good nurse on staff there. A lesbian. She’s been helping me make calls so I can talk to him at least. Not that he can say much right now with all the oxygen tubes and shit.”

“Good. That’s good.” Marvin didn’t know what to say to make it better, only what he knew he would have wanted to hear. "You know he wouldn't blame you right? Mark knows as well as anyone that couples are being banned from the ICU left and right. He knows you would be there if you could." There was a moment of silence before Steve spoke again. 

“Thanks, Marvin. I really, ah, needed someone to talk to. Someone who understood.” Steven knew dozens of people who would have understood and Marvin felt strangely touched that he was chosen out of all of them. 

“Anytime,” he said softly. 

Steve sniffed roughly. “I guess I should let you go then. It’s Thanksgiving. You have plans. Jason’s home right?”

“Yeah, he is,” Marvin couldn’t help but smile a little.

“That’s great,” Steve couldn’t quite cover how his voice was still strained. “You’re probably getting ready to go and see him so I should, uh, let you go like I said—”

“Hold on Steve,” Marvin interrupted as he realized something, “do you have anywhere to go today?”

The moment before his answer was just a beat too long as he answered, “Yeah, don’t worry, Marv’ I’m fine—”

“Come with me,” Marvin spoke before he really thought about what he was saying.

“What?”

“Come to my family Thanksgiving.”

“What? No, Marvin, I couldn’t. _Thank you_. Really. But I can’t just—”

“You’re coming.”  
“Marvin—”

“Do you have somewhere else to go?”

Silence. “Okay, fine, no I don’t but—”  
“Then you’re coming with me. No arguments young man.”

Steven laughed softly. “Ok, _Dad_.” They both laughed before he added, “And thank you, really.” 

“Anytime,” Marvin told him gently. “I’ll pick you up at four-thirty okay?”

“Okay.”

They hung up and Marvin took a moment to collect himself, memories of Whizzer pushing up and threatening to overflow as he thought of the hospital room and his own lesbians that helped him to stay close despite rules and regulations. 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, suddenly remembering Cordelia and he got up to go tell her that they would have one more at dinner— which shouldn’t be a problem considering that she usually cooked enough for a small army on a normal day, much less during the holiday that was primarily about food. 

***

“Marvin, come in!” Trina called, closing the oven with her foot while she leaned to look around the doorframe at him, smiling,

“And guest,” Marvin added, gesturing to Steve as he closed the door behind him.

“Of course, you must be Steven,” Trinna smiled warmly, wiping her hands on her apron as she came to greet him. “Welcome.”

Steve took her offered hand graciously. “Thank you, and Steve, please.” 

“Steve,” Trina nodded. 

“Trina, I need your hands!” Cordelia called, sounding slightly panicked.

Trina quickly excused herself, instructing them as she ran to help Cordelia, “Make yourself comfortable!”

“Hey,” Mendel popped out of the kitchen, looking frazzled. “Great to meet you, I’m Mendel, Trina’s husband.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Steve smiled, shaking his hand. 

Mendel looked surprised and a little pleased. “All good I hope.”

“Of course!”

Mendel beamed. “Well, Marvin, I think we may be best friends yet.”

Marvin laughed and followed Mendel as he ushered them into the living room. 

“Thank you, Dr. Wiesenbachfeld, for having me,” Steve added sincerely. “It was so last minute and so generous of you to allow me to join your family—”

Mendel waved a hand. “Call me Mendel, please. And it’s no big deal. To be honest,” he glanced back at the kitchen as he lowered his voice, “I’m not even doing much work. I’m trying to help but…” he laughed, “they’ve more or less kicked me out under the guise of ‘entertaining’ the guests. And any friend of Marvin is a friend of the family.” 

Both Steve and Marvin smiled at that. 

Mendel settled them on the couch and was asking if they needed anything when— 

“Geeze, Dad. I knew you liked a younger man but I have to say that I think this crosses the line.” Jason hovered in the doorway, smiling good-naturedly as Steve blushed.

“Oh, no, we— we’re not— I have a boyfriend. One that’s not your dad, I mean,” he fumbled, trying to stand.

Jason laughed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you so embarrassed. I was _trying_ to embarrass my dad.” Jason came into the room and hugged Marvin, who had also stood. 

“Ha, ha,” Marvin rolled his eyes. “Jason, Steve. Steve, Jason.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Jason said taking his hand with a soft smile. “Really, I didn’t mean to give you such a hard time.”

“It’s really good to meet you too, your dad talks about you all the time.”

“Really?” Jason eyed Marvin, a quirk in his lips.

“Yeah, non-stop. You’re studying pre-med at Boston U. Your favorite color is blue, you love; chess, chocolate chip cookies, and social justice, _and_ you started an AIDS activist group at your school. Very impressive.”

“Wow.” Jason blinked. “He does talk a lot about me. I haven’t heard nearly enough about you apparently. What do you do?”

“I run the Inferno Bar Activism Group for Burning Down AIDS— we’re working on the name. That’s how I met your dad actually.”

Jason’s eyebrows flew upwards as he whipped around to look at Marvin. “You’re in an activist group?” A grin slowly spread across his face. “Dad, that’s fantastic— why didn’t you tell me?”

Marvin shrugged, trying to look like it didn’t matter. “I’m not even really involved—”

“You’re too modest,” Steve protested, “he’s the life of the group,” he told Jason. “You’re so lucky. He’s been a role model to all of us. He's someone we all really look up to.” 

Marvin blushed as everyone looked at him. 

“Dad—” Jason started.

“Would you useless bums stop sitting on your asses and help us get the food on the table!” Charlotte shouted from the kitchen, interrupting. 

They scrambled to the kitchen but Jason held Steve back for a moment. “We’re not done,” he grinned, whispering, “I want to hear _everything_ at dinner.”

***

By the time they had finished their pie, Steve had recounted a dozen-plus times that Marvin had stood up for, helped, or provided a shoulder to cry on for one of the kids at Inferno. Marvin tried and failed about as many times to direct the conversation away from himself and had finally given up, sinking in his seat and blushing under everyone’s impressed and somewhat stunned glances. 

“Dad,” Jason said, his pride evident even through his surprise, “I had no idea you were so involved with a group like that. I’m really happy for you." He grinned and Marvin squirmed uneasily. 

“It’s really no big deal,” he protested.

“Stop being modest,” Steve admonished, “you’re like the dad none of us have ever had. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” His smile faltered, suddenly remembering the meeting a few weeks ago when Marvin had shared his diagnosis. 

“Marvin is a good father,” Trina added, breaking the sudden silence and smiling softly, her eyes hot with unshed tears. 

“Thank you, Trina. But we all know that wasn’t necessarily always the case. I had about ten years of making up to do,” Marvin said quietly.” 

“And you have,” Jason told him, “More than.” Under the table, he squeezed Marvin’s hand. 

Marvin couldn’t say anything, he just smiled tightly at Jason, his chest tight. 

The conversation moved on from there, with Mendel complimenting Cordelia’s pie and she went off on a ramble about the virtues of fresh pumpkin over canned. 

The mood lightened but no one forgot what Steve had said or now soon Marvin could be gone from all of their lives, nor stopped wondering what they would do without him. 

  
  


Steve left not long after the kitchen was cleaned, giving one last round of thanks to everyone and insisted that he had lived in the city for years and would be perfectly okay getting home alone so Marvin should really stay and enjoy his time with his family. 

Cordelia and Charlotte went home shortly thereafter, claiming exhaustion and early shift at the hospital the next day. After a quick whispered conversation, Trina and Mendel announced that they were going for a walk and slipped out the door, leaving Jason and Marvin alone. 

They settled in the living room, comfortable silence falling between them. 

After a few minutes, Jason decided he was going to be the one to get the conversation started and he stood, going to the kitchen. “You want any tea?” he asked, putting the kettle on.

“Sure,” Marvin smiled softly. “Thanks.”

“Ginger, green, or English breakfast?”

“Ginger.”

The kettle whistled and Marvin listened to the soft sounds of Jason puttering around the kitchen fixing their tea. He came back and pressed the warm mug into Marvin’s hand. 

“Thanks, kid,” he murmured, toying with the sting of the teabag, dragging it around in swirls through his cup. 

Jason let him take a moment, waiting. He took a long sip of his tea. When it appeared that he wasn’t going to speak, Jason sighed and prompted, “Steve seems nice.”

Marving jumped a little, and looked at him, startled out of his thoughts. “Oh, yeah,” he smiled, “he is. Really smart kid. Really caring. He’s going to go far.”

“I’m glad you found some people,” Jason said, genuinely. 

Marvin’s eyes widened, “I was serious, Jason. We— We’re not—. He’s practically the same age as you, I would never—”

Jason laughed, “I know, Dad. I was just giving you a hard time before. I mean I’m glad you found some people in the community. A support system.” He watched Marvin, trying to communicate with his eyes. 

“Right, of course,” Marvin looked away, staring at his tea. “I am too.” 

“You really...closed yourself off from everything like that after Whizzer died. You practically went back in the closet. And you know Whizzer wouldn’t have wanted that for you, right?”

“I know,” Marvin acknowledged quietly. “He always lived his life so out and proud. Whizzer didn’t make concessions to anyone.”

“He would be proud of you, Dad. If he saw what you’re doing now.”

“Thanks, Jason.” Marvin finally looked at him, smiling through his restrained tears.

“Has—” Jason started carefully, haltingly, “has it helped?” He made eye contact with Marvin and at that moment Marvin knew that Jason understood.

“Yes,” he whispered as if it might soften the blow, “it has. Especially—” he choked on the words, closing his eyes for a moment to steel himself, “especially since I was diagnosed.” 

Jason had known but somehow it still hurt like an open wound, his eyes burned as he nodded, his throat suddenly tight. “How, what…”

He didn’t need to ask for Marvin to know the questions. “I knew I was infected for sure since March—”

“March?”

“I’m sorry, I wanted you to enjoy the last of high school and I knew you wouldn’t go to Boston if I told you—”

Jason held up a hand, stopping him. “It’s okay, Dad. I get it, I just...I was surprised it had been so long. Please, tell me.”

“I knew I had the virus in March,” he swallowed roughly, “I was diagnosed with AIDS in the middle of September.”

Jason couldn’t hold back his tears anymore and he set down his mostly full mug of tea on the table. Marvin quickly set down his own cup, completely untouched, and gathered him up in a tight hug. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, stroking Jason’s hair. 

“No, it’s not,” Jason croaked, his face buried in Marvin’s shoulder, muffling his voice. 

Marvin took a few shaky breaths, trying to hold his composure, to be the adult and the father for Jason’s sake. “I’m so sorry, Jason.”

Jason pulled back, wiping his eyes roughly and sniffing. “No. Don’t you dare apologize. This is _not_ your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s _fucking Reagan_ who—”

Marving laughed roughly, “Thank you, Jason. But let’s not think about that bastard today, yeah? We talk about him enough at Inferno. I’m sick of that name.”

“Okay,” Jason agreed. “Whatever you want, okay?”

“Hey,” Marvin protested, “None of that either, alright? Don’t start acting like I’m going to keel over at any moment.”

Jason winced but nodded. “I can do that.” 

“Thanks.”

“How are you doing?” Jason asked, seriously, “How are your counts?”

“Holding steady for now,” Marvin answered calmly. “Obviously, I have to be careful about getting sick, but I’m doing okay. I’m not going to die tomorrow.” 

Neither of them mentioned how soon that day could be— even if it wasn’t tomorrow.

“I should come home,” Jason started.

“No,” Marvin told him firmly, not letting him finish. “I want you to go to school, Jason. That’s why I waited to tell you, remember? I wanted you to go out and have fun and enjoy your life.”

“But Dad,”

“No buts, Jason. Besides, what would your resistance group do without you?” 

Jason wasn’t swayed. “Dad, I’m not going to spend the last—” he broke off, his face crumpling. 

“You’re not going to spend the last few months of my life away from me,’ Marvin finished gently. 

Jason nodded, taking deep shuddering breaths. Marvin pulled him into a hug again, holding Jason gently. “I know,” he started carefully, “why you feel that way. And I—” he took a moment to compose himself, “I fully understand how you feel. But, Jason, you cannot put your life on hold for me. Besides, new advances are coming all the time. Charlotte says they’re working on a treatment. You never know what is going to happen. I could be around for your wedding ten years from now.” 

Jason let go of Marvin and took a few steps, sinking into a chair, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t want to take my chances,” he whispered. 

Marvin didn’t have any more false hope to offer. He took a moment to think and offered, “There is only a month left before winter break. Then you will be back home for a few weeks. I am going to be here when you do. You can last a month, right?”

Jason nodded reluctantly. 

“I’ll make a compromise with you,” Marvin told him, “You go back and finish the semester and if things...are going badly enough, you can make a decision about spring semester then. Okay?”

Jason nodded. “Okay.” 

“Come here,” Marvin gestured and Jason came to sit next to him on the couch. He put an arm around Jason and pulled him close, Jason curling into his side. “Want to watch some trashy tv?” he asked. Jason laughed and nodded. 

Marvin flipped through the channels until he found something brainless and comforting. When Trina and Mendel came home they didn’t say anything but joined them in the living room, crowding the couch to the point it was distinctly uncomfortable, but none of them especially minded. 

***

Jason stepped back on the bus with far more emotions than when he first arrived, giving Marvin a long fierce hug. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he told him desperately. “And call me if something happens.” 

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” Marvin told him, gently extracting himself from Jason’s arms. “Now, go have fun and learn.”

“Yes, Dad,” Jason rolled his eyes, not quite managing to pull off his imitation of an annoyed kid.

They gave each other watery-smiles and Jason gave one last hug to everyone all-around before hurrying up the bus steps, waving goodbye. 

***

Mark died on December seventh. 

Steve told them in choking gasps in the back room of Inferno before collapsing into a chair. Marvin hugged him in a mirror of their conversation a few weeks before, his heart aching deeply in his chest. He had nothing to say when Steve sobbed that he hadn’t been able to say goodbye. 

In a horrible way, they were all thankful that Mark’s parents declined to take his body. That way, at least they were able to attend the funeral. His queerness wasn’t erased or forgotten when they gathered in one of the few funeral homes that would take the bodies of those who died of AIDS-related causes. Steve was able to give his eulogy and honor his boyfriend in death even if he wasn’t able to do so in the last days of his life. Their group had always raised money for such services, but it was the first time they had used their funds for one of their own. What they had to give was enough to cover the bare minimum of funerals, but considering how hard it was to find a cemetery that would allow them to bury Mark, they were worried that all they would be able to afford would be a potter’s grave. 

By an apparent miracle, the funeral director informed Steve the day before the services that a large cash donation had been sent with the directions it was to be used on Mark’s burial.

And if anyone noticed how quiet Marvin was when they discussed where it could have come from, it went uncommented on. 

***

Jason came home in late December and Chanukah passed in much the way it always had, with perhaps a tinge of sadness and an awareness that it may be the last one with Marvin. Although he was still holding onto his health, it was clear that Marvin had lost weight and everyone was aware of how fast things could crumble. Jason struggled quietly, debating if he should defer his enrollment for the spring semester. It was a conversation with Steve, oddly enough, who they had been invited over for Chinese food and a movie marathon on Christmas Eve, who convinced him to go back. 

The two of them had volunteered to pick up the tapes from the rental store and they were making their way back to the apartment when Jason asked him to tell the truth about how Marvin was really doing.

“He has AIDS,” Steve said simply, looking at Jason with a tiredness in his eyes that belonged to someone much older than twenty-one. “He’s doing well considering, but…” he trailed off, gesturing helplessly.

“But he’s not going to be okay for forever,” Jason added, voicing what he already knew. “But how much longer—?”

“That I can’t tell you,” Steve said. “I’ve seen a lot of death in my life, Jason. Most of it from this fucking disease. It looks different with everyone. Usually, when it’s in the last weeks, I can tell. But sometimes, it can be hard to know when that turn is going to happen.”

Jason nodded, thinking, remembering how suddenly it seemed like Whizzer had gone from healthy to deathly ill. “What do I do?” he asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Steve told him. “It’s hard to say. Only you can really know what is right. I don’t see him dying in the next few weeks, but he’s been wasting. I know you can see that. Usually, that means there are only a few months left.”

Jason bit his lip, blinking back tears. “So I should stay.”

“I didn’t say that,” Steve warned. “And I can’t promise to be right about this. We’ve been hearing a lot of promising things about AZT. ‘Course it hasn’t been approved yet, because a bunch of fucking—” he stopped himself, letting his political rant rest for the moment while they talked about the person they both loved. “The point is, things could change. What I do know, is that your dad is so fucking proud of you. All he talks about is how smart you are, how you’re going to be a doctor, and…” he hesitated, “and how much he regrets everything he put you through and how happy he is that you’re finally able to live your own life.”

“But I don’t—”

“I know you don’t blame him, Jason. But from what I know, your dad is happy because he feels like he is finally making things up to you, no matter how true that is.”

Jason fell silent thinking about that for a few minutes as they turned the last corner towards the apartment. “Okay, thank you, Steve. And...watch out for him okay? Promise?” 

“On my life,” Steve swore. 

“But if he gets any worse, _any worse,_ by the end of January, I am staying.” 

“And I wouldn’t blame you,” Steve agreed. 

Marvin’s health held steady and on January eighteen, Jason, with great hesitation, stepped back on the bus, only managing to force himself up the stairs by seeing the way pride shone in Marvin’s eyes. 

***

On March twelfth, Trina called Jason’s dorm to tell him that Marvin had collapsed. He was out of the hospital, but only because that was his request. 

Through an insane feat of debate and the threat of a national media campaign and protest, Jason sat his midterms four days early and was on a bus home within thirty hours, not giving a shit that he’d lost essential hours of review. 

Jason spent the last ten days of Marvin’s life practically glued to his bed, curled up in a chair, watching soaps with his dad and hating himself desperately for the time he had missed. 

Four days before it happened, Jason broke, pouring out in stuttering gasps how sorry he was for leaving. Marvin held him close and made soft shushing sounds until Jason calmed enough to let go and blow his nose, gulping air as he tried to steady his breath. 

“Jason,” Marvin said softly, his thin face looking far too old and pale against the pillow, “I’m glad that you said something because I wanted to thank you.”

“Wha— “

“I am so happy that you kept going to school. I know how difficult it was and I cannot tell you how proud I am of you— every day and in every way. I love you, kiddo. As much as I missed you, I wanted nothing more than for you to go and live the life that you want to, and as unapologetically and loudly and happily as you possibly can. That’s what Whizzer would have wanted too.”

Jason couldn’t say anything more, too choked on love and grief and absolution to do more than lay down next to Marvin, curling tight against him like he did when he was a little kid who believed that his daddy was big and strong enough to scare all the monsters away.

Marvin died on March twenty-fourth, 1987, five days after the FDA approved AZT for the treatment of HIV/AIDS. 

  
  


On March twenty-sixth, Marvin’s last will and testament was read. His job, as confining and boring as it had been, had paid well for his years of service, and besides which Marvin had always been one to save, especially after Whizzer was gone and his vibrant lifestyle shrank to nights alone at bars and cheap takeout. He left enough to Jason that he wouldn’t have to worry about tuition for several years, and asked that the rest be used to bury those who died of AIDS and had no one willing or able to give them a dignified final resting place. Any of Marvin's meaningful possessions had been given away privately and the rest was free to take. Marvin had closed the short will with a note, saying that he hoped his family wouldn’t mind his choices. Through his tears, Jason smiled for the first time in days and thought he’d never been prouder of his father. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Steve got the dick painting. Marvin gave it to him personally.
> 
> I'm not sure how I feel about Jason's characterization. It's hard to age-up a child character convincingly. idk tell me if it rings false. 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! I love and appreciate all feedback and defiantly welcome constructive criticism <3


End file.
